Compromised
by Raven's Wing
Summary: Grant Ward is excellent at following rules - except when he isn't. [a series of missing scenes between episodes]
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing related to the Marvel/Disney universe including, but not limited to, characters, names of places, lyrics, dialogue, or any other piece of product. Marvel/Disney retains all the rights to this universe. I am making no money or receiving any kind of compensation, material or non-material, for this fiction. It's all for fun. Please don't sue me. I do claim the writing, the idea behind this particular narrative, and any peripheral characters or locations created to augment Marvel/Disney's work.

**A/N: **While binge watching AoS, I started creating this off-screen subplot where Ward and Skye have been hooking up for the whole time to make everything else so much more interesting. Canon but not canon, lots of spoilers, and unapologetic Ward/Skye-shipping – it isn't M yet, but it will get there pretty quickly.

**Spoilers: **Set between "The Asset" and "Eye Spy".

* * *

It is The Pink Dress Dream again. He's had it every night for the last four - ever since that mission to Malta left them all a little shaken - and tonight is no different. She came to him in sleep, that dress hugging her in all the right places, undressed him, and finished him right then and there. There is always slight variation, the time and place are different, but the one thing that never changes is she always remains clothed. Her body is a beautiful mystery, even in his dreams, that leaves him waking hard and wanting.

Sometimes he rolls back over and tries to sleep. Sometimes, after a particularly vivid dream, he self-completes to take the edge off. Sometimes, but not tonight. Tonight it is just too much. Tonight he wakes, covered in sweat, and he knows he will not sleep any more no matter how hard he tries.

He pulls on sweatpants and a tee shirt and pads down to the training gym. He needs to work out his frustration by assaulting a punching bag. His mind is always calmer when his body works. When he arrives in the gym hanger, however, he finds he is not alone.

Skye lies in the middle of the mats on her back, her cell phone held above her face, the light of the screen illuminating her as her thumbs work furiously across her keyboard. His mind takes quick stock of her appearance: sweats, cami, hair a mess at the top of her head, glasses, unarmed… it is instant, accurate, and he hates how many details he noticed about her.

He is going to turn around and pad back up the stairs unannounced. He is going to raid Colson's bar, and pour himself a drink. He is going to play sudoku in one of those dumb travel books until his head hurts. He is going to do anything but stay down in that hanger. That is until he hears her voice.

"You don't have to sulk over in the shadows. This place is big enough to share."

She is looking at him now, but he hadn't noticed her turn her head. He hadn't known she could see him in the dim safety lights, but apparently she can.

He stalls.

"No. It's all right. I just - I have something I have to do."

She snorts.

"Yeah right. At three in the morning? Even May is sleeping."

The military trained stiffness in his shoulders keeps him from shrugging.

"Seems like you have something to keep you occupied." His voice is still deep with sleep.

"Candy Crush." She holds up her phone to show him, but it is just a blur at this distance. "Level fifty-two is a bitch."

He doesn't smile. He isn't sure if he is supposed to.

"I will have to take your word for that."

She rolls her eyes.

"Right. You probably have much more important things to do with your time, like not sleep." She rolls back to how she was when he found her.

He can leave now. He knows that. She had given him a chance to interact and he had responded the way he should, but not the way she wanted, so he was dismissed. He should leave, but he doesn't.

Bare feet make a silent trail across the cushioned floor. He sits next to her, close - but not too close, and she swivels her head to look at him as he unfolds long legs. He focuses on the darkness in front of him because he cannot trust himself not to check and see if she is wearing a bra or not.

"What? You have to supervise this too? I swear I'm not doing anything hacker-y. Just trying to unwind." She tosses the device over onto his lap.

It almost startles him - _almost_ - but it is just so Skye that he isn't surprised. She plays hardball just for the hell of it, daring him to prove her wrong just to make the point that he is incapable of doing so. He can't blame her for pushing. He hasn't given her a lot of reasons to feel warm and fuzzy about their co-existence, but he doesn't know what to do with the object resting against his thighs. The screen was too bright, the content too strange, and when he picks it up the weight and shape of it feel odd in his hands.

He flicks it back over to her. It lands on her stomach.

"I believe you." He curls his legs up and wraps his arms around his knees.

She lets out a sharp breath and grabs the phone off of her abdomen.

"That's a first."

Maybe it is. He isn't sure of the exact moment he went from barely tolerating her presence to accepting that she isn't all bad. He tells himself it doesn't have anything to do with that pink dress, but it probably does.

He wishes he had a comeback, some quip like she always had sitting on the tip of her tongue, but he doesn't. Hell, he doesn't even know why he is sitting next to her, in the dark, alone in the first place.

"Hey - you're all Mister Tactical, right?" She is talking again.

"What?"

"Mister Tactical - strategy - you know. Stuff like that."

"You mean have I been trained to assess situations and factor out all of the outcomes? Yes." He has figured out all of the potential outcomes for this situation, too, and he knows he needs to get out of here. Quick.

"Then maybe you can help. I've been stuck on this level for like two days."

Before he can object, she is upright and scooching closer to him. His defenses rocket up around him and she notices the flinch of his tightening muscles on her approach.

"Hey. Easy there, Robocop. I come in peace." And before he can even attempt a comeback - she dives into explaining the intricacies of a game he has no interest in except for the fact that it gives him an excuse to watch her mouth.

When she shoves her phone under his nose, he is still at a loss.

"What am I supposed to do exactly?" The bright colors on the screen are blinding.

"Weren't you listening at all?" Skye sighs and moves so she is pressed against his side. "Line 'em up, move 'em out, and watch out for the chocolate."

He can smell her shampoo, the same kind Simmons uses, and even though it is not a new smell it is surprising. He can also feel her warmth seeping in against his arm. Human contact, other than that mission related, is rare in his life and he felt himself reacting. He shouldn't be reacting. He is trained not to react.

"I'm sorry. I am not the right guy for this." He scoots to the side and holds her phone out in one hand.

"You haven't even tried -"

"Look Skye, this isn't for me."

"Geez. You don't have to bite my head off." She grabs her phone. "Remind me to never help you relax ever again."

She won't need to remind him. This won't happen again. He can't let it.

He never should have been down here in the first place.

He stands, quick and silent, and starts towards the stairs. He hears her follow, but he doesn't stop.

"Ward!" She says, but he keeps going. "Come on, Ward. I didn't mean it."

He hears her pick up her pace, senses her move to grab his forearm on the railing of the stairs, and he needs to keep going. He needs to keep going, but the second her fingers grip his skin he freezes.

"What's wrong with you?" She asks, and there is only one way to answer.

He has her back pressed against the frigid airplane wall in less than a second. His callused hands slide up her arms, to her shoulders, to her neck, to hold her face because this is surprising and he doesn't want her to turn away. In the glow of the emergency lights he sees her jaw work to form a question, but he has better uses for her mouth.

He kisses her and her warmth makes him wonder if he had been cold. She doesn't fight, doesn't stiffen away from the firm pressure of his mouth, but she doesn't respond either. Three seconds and he pulls back a fraction of an inch, heart hammering because he _is _Mister Tactical and he isn't quite sure where to go from here.

He doesn't like that feeling.

He can hear her breathing, even but shallow, and he would give _anything _to hear her thoughts.

She edges closer, it is a matter of centimeters, and he holds his breath because - _gods_ - he can't stand smelling her when she is this close. Warm, tactile, and so different than anything he has grown accustom to in a lover since joining S.H.E.I.L.D, and it tears at him.

"This doesn't mean I like you." He feels the words as much as he hears them and then - _holy shit_ - Skye is kissing him.

Hot and hard and it feels like she has done this before to get what she wants, but he has too. It doesn't stop either of them from taking more than they are given.

He jerks back, trying his best not to gasp, because she kissed like this is war.

"This doesn't mean I like you, either"

He doesn't give her a chance to reply, and this time when he goes up the stairs she does not stop him.

* * *

**A/N: **No clue how often I will update this one (My Frozen fiction is currently taking up most of my head space) but this is going to be a great way to smash writers block. I can feel it.

Curious about updates or want to harass me into continuing? That is what my fanfiction twitter is for: **ravenswrite**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing related to the Marvel/Disney universe including, but not limited to, characters, names of places, lyrics, dialogue, or any other piece of product. Marvel/Disney retains all the rights to this universe. I am making no money or receiving any kind of compensation, material or non-material, for this fiction. It's all for fun. Please don't sue me. I do claim the writing, the idea behind this particular narrative, and any peripheral characters or locations created to augment Marvel/Disney's work.

**SPOILERS: **Everything in an before "Eye Spy". Set between "Eye Spy" and "Girl In The Flower Dress".

**o000o**

Ward is different than Coulson, than May, and Skye knows it. There is something raw around his edges. There is something too tight in his control. There is something so very _not_ field agent hovering in the corner of his eyes and she'd known it since day one. Now she is just filling in her hypothesis.

Filling it in with information like that he is ticklish. Hella ticklish. Like had he never been touched in the last ten years kind of ticklish and she needs to be careful to not let that trick her into caring about him. This is the same guy who pinned her to a wall and kissed her out of nowhere and that didn't change just because he is ticklish. Grant Ward, for all his posturing and steely precision, is a loose cannon and she would be stupid to think he is predictable.

No one jumps in front of a moving van unless they are missing a few bullets from their bullet - holder - thing… and Skye might be ready to start paying attention all those military terms that always fly around The Bus. It wouldn't hurt to start fitting in a bit more.

So when Fitz suggests pranking Ward, Skye is all in because this feels an awful lot like being accepted and it looks like she may be here awhile before she gets what she wants. She may as well make the most of it.

She knows from the get-go that Fitz's plan will backfire on him, but he is so excited she can't break it to him. Not yet. She is no kill-joy and she appreciates the fact that timing is everything. She also appreciates that once Fitz bailed, she has a free pass to uh - inspect Ward's - equipment?

Yeah. She so needs to start paying attention because she knows there are better euphemisms laying around this flying military bunker.

Skye unwinds herself from the pile of technology on her lap and stands. Fitz may have thrown in the towel, but this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. When she joins Ward in the rec area he is cleaning up the chips and looks at her in that way that tells her he notices _everything_ about her appearance.

"Why are you wearing those?"

No 'hello', no 'how are you today?', no 'hey remember that time we kissed and then just _ignored it_?', but Skye wasn't expecting any of those. They aren't exactly friends and they sure as hell aren't lovers. That and Ward sucked at small talk, and big talk, and anything that wasn't mission-kick-jab-punch-knock-out-shoot-stab-_kill._

"I am Fitz's ability to find your psychological tic." She points to the spectacles and for the first time she feels like she just may be one whole step in front of Grant Ward, even if he would absolutely never show it. "But when it came time to pull the trigger, he got a little gun-shy."

"Ah. That explains it. Shame. He folded with a winning hand." Ward flashes her three of a kind.

"Yeah. That definitely would beat a pair." She says and his eyes spark.

"I thought you said Fitz called off your plan."

_Oh shit._

"He did -"

"So how did you know I had a pair?"

_Shit shit shit._

So much for being one step ahead. Before she can come up with an excuse, Ward smirks.

"Well I hope you liked what you saw."

She had, but… is Ward _flirting_ with her? Is that even possible? Yes. Yes. It is. Anything is possible with this guy. Besides - she _did_ like what she saw - but there is no need to be obvious.

"It was all right." She shrugs and settles into the chair that Fitz had occupied only moments before.

The seat is still warm, but Ward's eyes are unnervingly blank. She tries not to let him see just how vulnerable he makes her feel.

"So you going to deal me a hand or what?" She reaches for a pretzel and there is something unnerving about the way Ward watches her mouth.

"You play poker?"

"Of course I do. Who doesn't?" She says, but he doesn't reach for the cards and something rumbles in her stomach.

"Want to make it more interesting?" He asks.

"More interesting than playing poker against a robot? Gee - how could that be possible?" Her heart fluttered in her ribcage because the way he looks at her is like he sees through her, but he isn't the one wearing spy glasses.

"Meet me in your room in ten minutes and I will show you."

"Pretty sure that is breaking some sort of protocol. I may have to check with my S.O." She prides herself for keeping the tremor out of her voice.

He does that stupid half-smile she hates because it is so rehearsed.

"I have a feeling he will be fine with it."

**o000o**

He doesn't knock. He just comes in with the deck of cards and a bottle and locks the door behind him. She presses back against the opposite wall (even so it would still take no effort to reach out and touch) because she knows where this is going. Hell, she should know. She started it, but it is still surprising to see Ward in her room.

"Hey," she is quiet because the room is small and The Bus is smaller.

"Hey," he says back and tosses the bottle and the cards onto her tech laden bed. His eyes take in everything and she is painfully aware of how messy her side of the room is compared to Jemma's.

"Didn't know Jose was invited to this party." She jams her hands into her pockets and jerks her head towards the tequila.

"I thought it might be time to work on your ability to hold your liquor. As a field agent, you never know when you will be required to drink on the job and retain all of your faculties." Ward lowers himself onto the edge of her bed and Jose rolls into his hip.

"Maybe you are just nervous that you can't beat me at poker without a little help." Skye bites her lip, aiming for coy, but doesn't sit down. She knows that once she does, there is no turning back.

"I don't get nervous."

She almost laughs because his response is so knee-jerk it is like talking to an answering machine.

"Right, regular Phil Ivey." She isn't sure if he doesn't get her reference or just doesn't acknowledge it, but she still rolls her eyes at his lack of reaction. "Seriously? Nothing? Has anyone on this plane ever heard of anything pop culture related _ever_?"

Ward's brow creased in what she guesses is amusement, but she isn't sure. All of his moods still look about the same to her.

"We are a little busy."

"Even people who save the world can visit Perez Hilton's blog." She says, but when he doesn't reply, "Or - not."

He's giving her that look again - like she is speaking a language he doesn't understand - which is crazy because he is like - quint-lingual.

Though now, even with all those ways to say something, he isn't saying anything. He just watches her and she knows he is waiting for her to make the next move in this weird game they're playing.

Truth is, she is kind of waiting for that, too.

If she wanted to put a stop to this, she could. She could walk out the door and this would be over, but she doesn't. She just stands, and stares, and _ohgodisthisworthit?_

He unscrews the cap on the liquor and takes a deep swallow straight out of the bottle. Then he holds it out towards her.

She hesitates, but only for an instant. She just needs one second. She may be impulsive, but she is not rash, but that was not how S.H.I.E.L.D worked. The time for thinking was over that one day where she met Mike at that cafe in Los Angeles.

It better be worth it.

She snatches the tequila, too aware of where their fingers brush, and downs two sharp gulps. It burns all the way down. She doesn't show it.

Deep breath - and she sits.

She knows somewhere in the back of her mind that this was the beginning of her end.

Ward plays to win, but so does she. They bet swallows of Jose and she is eight deep when the world fuzzes around the edges. Ward has only had five and she hates how clear his eyes are, hates his knowing smirk.

"You need to drink more." She isn't slurring, but she has to pay close attention to the shape her mouth takes to keep it that way.

"Then beat me." He lays his hand flat on her comforter. "Two pair."

The cards wobble and shift before her eyes.

"Straight." She showed her hand and thrust the bottle under his nose. "Drink."

He does - more than he has to - and she can't help but feel like he is showing off.

A few hands later and it is her deal, but she doesn't feel like shuffling. The cards are too slick against her fingers and Ward is watching her with that too impassive, almost patronizing expression that drives her crazy. She wants to smack it off of his face.

Instead she flings the deck down on her bed. The cards fly and skate a dozen different directions. Ward doesn't stop them. Neither does she.

She looks at her mess and feels just as scattered.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have done that." She grips her head. She is teetering close to not-fun drunk. "Congratulations. I get drunk faster than you do."

"You lasted longer than I thought you would."

It is practically a compliment, but she is too mixed up to register that.

"That's what she said." Sarcasm so imbedded it comes out without thinking.

Ward laughs.

Well, he makes a small grunt that could have been a laugh, and Skye is thrown by the genuine quality of it. She looks at him. Even through the warm filter of tequila, she knows she doesn't like the man sitting on her bed, but he is smiling a real smile and she knows she doesn't _not _like him either. Her stomach twists and - dammit - she wants to ask why he is the way he is. She wants to pull back his mess see just what he is hiding, but there is no time for that.

He isn't here for that, but neither is she.

They crash together somewhere in the middle. She has no idea who started it, but she knows she isn't going to give him the upper hand without a fight.

His mouth is hard and hot and they're going to have a hell of a time finding all fifty two cards when this is done. She climbs up onto his lap. Her legs wrap around his waist. His fingers twist into her hair. Her greedy hands itch to explore what she'd seen earlier and it looks like he is willing to give her that chance.

His black shirt hits the ground and she maps scars across his skin by distance of fingertips. His body is a conundrum, satin over steel, and she has definitely been with worse. His hands slide beneath her shirt, pushing their way up to find the cage of wire and lace, and grabs. Electric heat floods from the ends of her hair to her toes.

She is a little surprised just how good this feels.

She will need significantly less liquor to convince her this is okay next time.

Wait - next time?

That thought is quickly forgotten because she is too busy learning just where to bite Ward's neck to make him squirm. To make his breath hitch. To make his jaw clench. So far she has found three. Each time she finds one, her body catches fire. Nothing quite like making a control freak lose control - even if just a fraction.

His hands go to the fasteners on her jeans the same moment someone jiggles the door. They both freeze.

"Skye?" It is Simmons. The door wiggles more. "Skye - are you in there? Why is the door locked?"

Skye is frozen, but Ward doesn't hesitate. He has Skye off of his lap and his shirt on before Simmons is even done talking.

"You were taking a nap. You didn't mean to lock the door. You are sorry." Ward whispers.

He grabs the tequila, as many cards as he can find in less than two seconds, and rolls his way under Skye's bed.

Skye is trembling. The alcohol and the adrenaline sing through her blood until she can hardly move. Ward's orders are still sinking in when she hears Simmons knock again.

"Seriously Skye, this isn't funny. Don't make me get Coulson."

At the Coulson threat, Skye jerks her body over to the door. If she wants to have any chance of not getting caught with Ward, she needs Coulson to stay as far away as humanly possible.

Her fingers fumble with the latch but when the door finally slides open Skye is confronted with a flustered Simmons.

"There you are. Really, Skye, that wasn't funny at all. Have you gone barmy? You had me quite worried." The bespeckled doctor brushed into the room and pulled down a box from above her bed and opened it. "What if something awful had happened to you and Coulson had to break down the door to rescue you? That would just be dreadful." She pulls a flash drive out of the box and drops it in the pocket of her lab coat before putting the box back and turning to where she left Skye by the door. "What on earth were you doing locking the door anyway?"

Skye's brain is still trying to process all of the too-fast, too-British Simmons dialogue - but she knows the answer to that question. Ward had told her what to say.

"Napping." She pushes her hair out of her eyes, heart hammering in her ears. "Sorry. Didn't know I locked it. Guess I was pretty out of it."

Simmons pursed her lips and cocked her head - mother hen mode to the max. "Well try not to let it happen again. Can you just imagine the hullabaloo it could cause?"

Could she just imagine the hullabaloo it would cause if Simmons knew the real reason the door was locked?

"Yeah. You're right. I'm sorry. It won't happen again." Skye nods, agreeing, just anything to get Simmons out of here as quickly as possible.

"All right, then. Good. I shall return to the lab so that you can return to your -" A quick glance at Skye's tech covered bed and rumpled blankets - and she scrunches her nose, "- bed."

Skye doesn't breathe until Simmons looks away.

"Thanks." Skye puts her hand on the door as Simmons exits. "And Jemma -" The science prodigy turns back to look at Skye. "I really am sorry. I'm so sorry." Skye apologizes for more than Simmons could ever know.

"It's fine, really." And then she is gone leaving Skye standing in the doorway with nerves to spare.

Three deep breaths and she steps back into the room and shuts the door. She doesn't lock it.

"Ward," she hisses, "the coast is clear." She watches for him to roll out from under her bed, but he stays hidden.

"I'm going to stay here for ten minutes." He says, his disembodied voice makes her think of monsters under her bed. "You are going to go make some coffee and drink it."

Coffee. Good call. The world is still so fuzzy. She shuffles her feet.

"And Skye?" She hears him as she puts her hand on the door.

"Yeah?"

"Try not to talk to anyone till you sober up."

Not a bad idea. "Okay."

She moves to leave.

"And Skye?"

She feels annoyance at his disembodied pestering grow behind her eyes. Or was that just the alcohol? She isn't sure.

"What?"

"Don't tell anyone about this."

She can't stop choked chuckle that comes at his command.

"No problem-o." She gives a mock salute to her invisible S.O. and slides open the door.

Who would believe her anyway?

**o000o**

**A/N**: If I woke up tomorrow in the of the girl who plays Skye, I would be okay with that. Especially if this subplot was actually happening.

Thanks for all the love on the last chapter! All of the reads, reviews, favorites, and follows were the greatest. I am off to go work on my Frozen fic now.

Follow me on twitter? **ravenswrite**


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